


Something Just Like This

by Theneras



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Tension, Awkwardness, F/M, Fade to Black, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Kissing, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Pining, Romantic Fluff, Strong Female Characters, Teasing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:41:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26325826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theneras/pseuds/Theneras
Summary: Bethany joined the Wardens as a last resort. She met a charming, handsome, young Alistair and never forgot his kindness in the beginning. Over the years their paths crossed, but not often and never long enough for her to confess her growing attraction for him. When news came that Warden Alistair was a fugitive, wanted by the Warden-Commander, Bethany is determined to get to the bottom of things and bring the truth to light.From the moment Stroud brought Bethany Hawke to their Deep Roads camp, Alistair was smitten. He thought Bethany was too sweet and innocent for the Wardens, and far too dignified to see him as anything but an awkward imbecile. When she found him hiding in West End, he recalled his mortifying confession years before. One they never spoke of, ever. Still, whatever trouble was heading their way, was more important than him feeling like a bumbling fool in her presence.
Relationships: Alistair/Bethany Hawke
Comments: 13
Kudos: 15
Collections: Black Emporium 2020





	Something Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kauri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kauri/gifts), [amarmeme](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amarmeme/gifts), [pinehutch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinehutch/gifts), [suchanadorer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/gifts).



> If ever two people deserved to find someone as sweet and caring as themselves, these two do. It is a pairing that intrigued me, and I couldn't resist writing them for a treat. I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed exploring what might happen if Bethany had more of a hand in investigating what the Wardens were up to.

Leaving Kirkwall without her sister or mother didn’t feel right to Bethany. None of this was right. The trip into the Deep Roads was supposed to secure the family’s future, not split them further.

Marion insisted Bethany join the expedition out of concern for her safety. The Templars' questions had hit a little too close for comfort. With all the rumors about the Gallows, and the abuse of mages, Marion wanted Bethany in her sight at all times. Despite her misgivings, Bethany agreed to join the expedition. After finding themselves trapped by Bartrand, they fought their way through Darkspawn to find a new exit.

Bethany blinked back the angry tears of injustice at the way life changed course on the Hawkes once more. Since she came into her magic her family had to move, often and suddenly, to protect her. She’d been helpless as Darkspawn surged on Lothering, forcing them to run and leave all she knew behind. Bethany stood frozen; as the ogre zeroed in on her. Carver rushed in and pushed her out of the way, saving her life, and met his own end. 

Now here she was, weak from Blight sickness, staring into the chalice that contained the only way to save her life. Would it be best to just let the Blight kill her? Allow her mother to mourn her death instead of worry the next letter she received would bring the news she feared the most? The chalice shook in her hands as her strength continued to fail her.

A strong hand gently cupped around her fingers. “I know it’s scary, but being a Warden isn’t so bad. We get to travel to remote locations, and the circle can’t complain about how you use magic.” His warm amber eyes gazed deeply into hers. “I always said we needed more women in the Grey Wardens, not that I’m some lecher, stop looking at me like that.”

Bethany gave him a weak smile. “Probably because they're too smart to join.”

“I know someone who would agree with that.” He gave her a lopsided grin that sent her heart rate up a notch.

She closed her eyes and held her breath, refusing to think of what it was she drank. She choked and sputtered, releasing the cup, she grabbed her head. The world spun, voices grew distant and darkness closed in on her.

* * *

Bethany’s eyelids fluttered, and she blinked to bring the face over her into focus. The same warm amber eyes, wide with concern, searched her face. His full lips were pinched tight. He let out a sigh when she gave him a weak smile.

“Welcome to the Grey Wardens, Ser Hawke.” He leaned down and helped her sit up.

Bethany pressed a hand to her forehead to ease the wave of dizziness.

“Stroud asked me to show you around once you feel up to it.”

“Thank you, …” Bethany shook her head. If someone told her his name she didn’t recall it.

“Alistair,” he crossed his arm over his chest, “at your service, m’lady.”

“Alistair? Alistair Theirin?” Bethany tilted her head and studied him curiously. He bore a strong resemblance to the late King Cailan and King Maric. She could see how easily the rumors grew out of hand once it came to light that King Maric had a second son.

He shook his head, his expression grim. “I might be Maric’s son, but it was clear to me I was never meant to be King.”

Bethany bit her lip. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive of me. I heard about the Landsmeet.” The Hero of Ferelden married Anora and became King Consort, rather than put Alistair on the throne.

Alistair waved away her concern. “Me king? No, no don’t be sad for me. Bad things happen when I’m in charge. We’d get lost, people would die, and I’d end up stranded somewhere without my pants.” 

Bethany covered her mouth to stifle the bark of laughter the image called.

He gave her another lopsided grin. This one made her breath catch in her throat, Alistair was a handsome man. Maybe being a Warden wouldn’t be so bad. At least as a Warden she could see her family from time to time. Few mages in the Gallows were allowed visitors, and fewer were allowed to leave the Gallows to see family.

* * *

Ten years ago, Bethany would have done anything to return to the life she knew before the Blight. Now, returning to Ferelden was bittersweet. Bethany pulled the wool cloak tighter, a vain attempt to keep out the lashing rain and wind. The Storm Coast was aptly named. 

Bethany was stationed in Starkhaven when the news came that Warden Alistair betrayed the order. While she’d not worked with him often since her joining, she knew him to be an honorable man. The last thing she would accuse Alistair of, was betrayal of the order. When further details reached Starkhaven, calling all Wardens into Orlais under orders of Warden-Commander Clarel, Bethany defied those orders and returned to Kirkwall. If anyone knew how to find Alistair it was Marion. Taking the information she had to her sister was against the oath she swore, but Bethany needed to find the truth. Even if it meant she turned to her sister for help. What little they uncovered seemed to tie to the Darkspawn Marion killed in the Vinnamark’s. How or why was the question. Corypheus was dead. 

Marion wanted her to head to Rivian or Antiva; somewhere away from the conflict, away from the Red Templars. Marion also dismissed Bethany's thoughts on Corypheus, insisting the Darkspawn Magistar was dead. With the rain lashing at her, Bethany almost regretted following her companion into danger instead of heeding her sister's advice. 

Nightfall was hours away, but the dense clouds, and heavy rainfall cut off the sun to the point it might as well be the mid-night hour. The wind grew stronger, and the waves crashed higher and louder on the rocky shore. Bethany spent enough time in Kirkwall to know a storm from the sea was making its way inland. Shortly after the Hawkes arrived in Kirkwall, the Viscount ordered the port gates closed to protect the city. The storm that raged had stranded the Qunari in Kirkwall and led to Commander Meredith taking full control of the city after the death of the Viscount.

Bethany spared a glance at Warden Alistair. His shoulders were scrunched up around his ears, his mouth pinched tight, eyes narrowed against the biting rain. He’d said little since she found him hiding in a cave outside of West End. Alistair asked her to return to Kirkwall and to go north as her sister asked. They argued. Alistair didn’t want her throwing away her place in the Wardens for his hair-brained idea, that he and Hawke would get to the bottom of it, she needed to stay away from the trouble brewing in the south.

Bethany argued that she was just as capable as her sister at getting to the bottom of whatever trouble they faced. She was more capable, given her background in magic, and the information she’d uncovered. Warden-Commander Clarel wasn’t acting rationally, but she wasn’t the only thing that concerned Bethany. While trying to track Alistair’s whereabouts, she learned a number of Wardens were sighted in the Storm Coast. While that wasn’t anything surprising, they had disappeared without a trace. None of the outposts in the Marches, or Ferelden were missing any Wardens, and there were no orders, that Bethany was aware of, that sent Orlesian Wardens into Ferelden. Warden-Commander Clarel was calling all Wardens back to Montsimmard.

It was this news that gave Alistair pause. If the missing Wardens entered the Deep Roads in Ferelden they could end up anywhere. Now, the two of them were in search of additional clues on how and why a group of 30 Wardens disappeared without a trace. 

Alistair touched her arm and pointed to a cabin high atop a cliff. It was closer to the shore than Bethany liked, but it was high enough above sea level that flooding wouldn’t be a problem. 

* * *

The cabin they found was more of a lookout than a home. The single room offered shelter from the wind and rain. The circular structure deflected the brunt of the wind, allowing it to roll past the walls without fear of them falling in. The small windows would offer little light, but again, were built to endure the powerful storms that often came from the sea. A ward protected the door that Bethany made quick work of.

“Cozy.” Alistair said as he secured the latch on the door. He scanned the room, his eyes settled on the single bed against the wall and his cheeks reddened. “I hoped it would offer more than one room.”

Bethany hid her smile at his embarrassment. “I doubt it was meant for long term habitation.” The small cabin had little to offer. A stack of firewood by the fireplace, a few trunks, a large table, and simple wooden chair, and a single bed.

Alistair busied himself with the fireplace. “At least the wood is dry. Though it won’t last long.”

“I saw some outside. If you’ll bring more in I can dry it enough that it won’t smoke us out of here.” 

“Right.” He grinned at her. “I often forget you’re a mage. You’re too pretty and innocent to be capable of setting people on fire with a snap of your fingers.” Alistair coughed into his hand, the red on his cheeks darkened. “Er, I… hm… I’ll just go get that firewood.” He scrambled out the door, closing it quickly to keep the wind and rain out.

Bethany waited until the door shut to let out the bubble of laughter she fought to contain. Over the last decade, she rarely spent time with Alistair, but they kept in contact through Marion. Occasionally, she wrote him directly; he always responded. She enjoyed his optimism, and his humor. He wrote her of his life growing up in the Chantry, and the pranks he played as a boy. Marion filled her in on the pranks he played on the stuffier Wardens he worked with. 

The attraction she felt when they first met continued to grow into a deep affection for him. He was kind, honorable, funny, and his smile sent her heart racing. Bethany sighed and touched her lips. 

The last time she saw him, Alistair was gravely injured. He and his companions fought a darkspawn raid near Starkhaven. The Wardens brought him to her to heal. Without healing potions in the field they’d plied him with alcohol to ease his pain. His drunken confession, and chaste kiss, surprised her, and she’d hoped to discuss it with him when he was sober. Duty sent her to the field before he recovered. When she returned to Starkhaven, he was gone. 

The storm outside grew stronger. She jumped when the door slammed open and Alistair stumbled in, arms laden with enough wood to last them three days. She rushed over to close the door behind him. As he knelt before the fireplace and started a fire, Bethany smiled at the thought forming in her head. She was far from the innocent girl who left Lothering ten years ago. She was a grown woman who knew exactly what she wanted, and she wanted Alistair Theirin. 

* * *

Alistair focused on the fire far longer than was needed. He built it as high as he dared to ward off the chill in the room, but no matter the heat from the flames, the cold in his armor seeped into his bones. Bethany moved closer and sighed as she held her hands out to the warmth from the flames. He dared a look at her. Her hair clung to the side of her face and neck, her skin was pink from the wind, but her lips were blue from the cold. 

The only way either of them would get warm again was if they got out of their wet armor. His face heated at the thought. Bethany Hawke was too good for the likes of him. She was too good for the Wardens. She should be living in her family's mansion in Kirkwall, not living rough and on the run with him. He still didn’t understand why she insisted on coming with him. He’d reminded her again that following him was a bad idea. They likely headed to their deaths. She’d propped one fist on her hip and stamped her foot, claiming she was going no matter what he said. With Clarel demanding his arrest, he couldn’t risk showing his face in public. He needed someone able to charm people for information, someone they wouldn’t suspect.

He’d crumpled like wet paper, and allowed her to join him. Secretly, he was pleased she wanted to join him, though he would never tell her why.

“We’ll never get warm in these wet clothes.” Bethany crossed the room and checked the trunk at the foot of the only bed in the room. “Hmm, well that is unfortunate.”

His heart slammed in his chest. “What’s wrong?”

She held up a single druffalo skin blanket. “I doubt whoever stayed here planned for company.”

“We have our bedrolls and blankets. I’ll stretch out on the floor, you take the bed.”

“Our gear is soaked through. Even the bedrolls.” She pointed to the pile by the door. “It will take a full day for them to dry sufficiently.”

“What?” Alistair hurried across the room to see for himself. Hadn’t he planned for the weather? The oil cloth should have kept the worst of the rain out of their gear. A lump stuck in his throat at the dripping mess he found. “Makers Breath.” He muttered to himself. The sound of wet leather and silverite hitting the wooden floor stole his breath and he tried to swallow the lump forming in his throat, and willed his mind to think of anything but the fact that Bethany Hawke was removing her clothes behind him. 

From the moment Stroud brought her to their camp in the Deep Roads, Alistair found himself enchanted with her. To say he was disappointed that they were assigned far from each other soon after her joining was an understatement. He learned through roundabout conversations that Bethany Hawke was dubbed the ‘Ice Queen’. She was friendly, but very formal with all her companions. She didn’t flirt with anyone, and ignored every advance made toward her. If Caronel, the handsome elf mage all the girls sighed over, was shut down by Bethany, what hope did Alistair have? 

“Alistair, you’ll catch your death if you don’t get out of your wet armor. I will be quite put out if you end up sick and delirious with a fever, not after saving your sorry backside three years ago.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He wouldn’t look her way, he would stare into the fire and pretend he was the only one in the room. That was what he would do. So what if she looked, she wouldn’t be the first to see him in just his knickers. He bit back a laugh, recalling his days in the Chantry before Duncan recruited him. He’d spent the morning training and wasn’t going to humiliate himself by showing up for luncheon smelling like an ox. He’d pranked one of his fellow recruits one too many times and they retaliated by stealing his clothes while he bathed. The note they left claimed his belongings were in the mess hall. He’d rushed in, forgetting that it was the noon hour and everyone was already seated and eating. 

He’d been mortified when the person responsible for his missing gear stood and began to clap. Alistair stood in stunned silence as everyone joined them. Appreciating a good prank, even if he was on the receiving end, Alistair did the only thing he could do. He stood tall, saluted the room, then marched out the door with all the dignity of a Templar in full armor.

But stripping down in front of Bethany? That was so much worse. He could hide his traitorous member under his warden tunic, but sitting in nothing but his small clothes? He could never hope to hide his very physical attraction to the enchanting Bethany Hawke. 

He fumbled with the buckles on his belt, and struggled with the hooks on the armor. He’d never felt like such a bumbling fool since the last time he saw Bethany. Drunk and injured, he confessed his feelings for her. He wished he could forget the shock on her face when he caught her by surprise with a chaste kiss. She pulled away as if burned, and cast a spell sending him into a deep sleep. When he awoke he wanted to explain, to apologize, but she was gone to finish dealing with the darkspawn raid he’d failed to stop. Knowing she was out of his reach added to his current torment.

Slowly, he removed his armor, and the soaked tunic. He struggled with his wet boots and rang out his socks. Thankful that his feet no longer stank the way they did when he traveled with Warden Cousland. His hands froze at the ties on his leather breeches. They weren’t that wet. He could leave them on and just sit close to the fire. He was determined to do just that and scooted closer to the fire. 

A gentle hand touched his shoulder. He flinched as Bethany settled beside him and wrapped one side of the blanket around his back. “It’s large enough to share. Even with the fire, there is a chill in the air.”

He gulped trying to force the lump in his throat down so he could breathe. Slowly drawing in a breath to calm his nerves pulled her scent with it. His blood heated and rushed straight to his groin. Alistair shifted, trying to put distance between them, but she sighed and moved closer.

“How are you so warm?” She wound an arm behind his back, holding the blanket around him. “You’d be warmer if you got out of those wet breeches.”

“Nope, no, not a good idea. Remember when I said bad things happened when I’m in charge? This is just what happens. I’d end up stranded somewhere without my pants. It was always a jest when I said it, I’m not about to make it a reality.”

He tried not to breathe, tried not to think, tried not to touch her. He ignored the little voice in his head that told him her lush breast was pressed against his arm. He wouldn’t be accused of accosting the beautiful woman beside him. 

“Alistair? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, not cold at all. In fact I’m too warm, so you should take the blanket. Your skin is cold as ice.” He trembled at the tender brush of her fingers against his side. 

“It’s better to share our body heat. Is it okay if I move closer?”

“Eep. Er, I mean, yes, of course. Sharing body heat, right. We’ll get warmer faster. But first I should hang up our gear to dry.”

Bethany chuckled. “I already took care of that, see?”

Alistair did as she bid and turned to see their armor propped up near the fire and their tunics hung over the chair close to the heat of the fireplace to dry. She’d even found a place to stretch out their bedrolls so they would dry faster. 

Their eyes met and a shock of electricity ran through his body. His eyes dropped to her lips and he sucked in a gasp as the tender smile he found there. 

“So, um… Why did you insist on coming with me? Surely not just to gather information. You’d be more effective without worrying about me blowing our cover.” He forced himself to look away from the expanse of flawless skin peeking out from the blanket. 

“Marion dismissed my thoughts on Corypheus, she insists he’s dead. But we Wardens know that some things that are supposed to die, don’t always stay dead.”

“You think this is tied to Corypheus? In what way?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure yet, but something tells me we will soon find out. I can’t explain it, but I feel that something big is coming, something that is going to change everything we know about Thedas.”

“Wardens are responsible for dealing with Darkspawn, the rest is up to the leaders of Thedas. What about this Conclave the Divine has called for? I’m sure there are people there you could pass the information to. Let them chase those leads, while we deal with the missing Wardens.”

“All my life I have been told to let someone else handle things. My sister was the face of the Hawke family. I was just Marion’s little sister; the quiet one who hid inside the house and was too shy to face the world. I hid to protect my family, not to protect myself. I knew it would break my mother’s heart if I was sent to the Circle.” A frown settled over her brow, her full lips turned downward. “I’ve been a Warden for nearly ten years now, I don’t have to fear the Chantry or the Circle. My mother…. " Her voice caught in her throat. “My mother is gone. My sister, Marion is stubborn, she’s willing to take on the weight of the world to protect me, but I feel the same way. I will do everything I can to protect her. It’s time she realized she doesn’t have to fight on her own. That I don’t need her to protect me anymore. And maybe, part of me wants to be seen as someone other than Marion Hawke’s poor little sister.”

Her eyes reflected the firelight, and fierce determination settled on her face. Alistair’s breath caught in his throat.

“And maybe I’m tired of us pretending we only work together.” She searched his face and lifted her chin. “Did you mean it?”

“Wha… ?” Alistair sputtered, unable to form a coherent thought as her hand gently touched his chest and she splayed her fingers over his heart. He cleared his throat. “Mean what?” He croaked out.

“Three years ago you were brought to me to heal. You were drunk and delirious from infection.” She bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze. “You confessed that you liked me more than you should.” She lifted her face again. “Did you mean it?”

“I…” His mouth agape, he snapped his jaw shut. He drew in a shaky breath. “I wanted to tell you when I woke, but you were gone. I wanted to apologize a million times. I never meant to put you in an uncomfortable position. I shouldn’t have kissed you, not without asking first.”

“Thank you for that, but I wasn’t upset with the kiss, or the confession. I was upset with the silence afterwards.”

“I wanted to wait and speak to you, but received orders to Antiva before you returned. When you didn’t mention it in the letters you sent, I thought you just wanted to forget it ever happened. You were so shocked, and didn’t kiss me back. I was certain you didn’t like me.” He raised a trembling hand to touch her cheek. She closed her eyes and pressed into his touch. “I meant every word.”

“Good.” She leaned up and pressed a tender kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t bring it up in letters because I was certain you were too drunk to remember. You were also far too drunk for me to kiss you back. I would never take advantage of someone when they were vulnerable.”

“I’m not drunk now.” Not on spirits anyhow. Her scent was intoxicating. The warmth of her hand against his skin sent little shocks of pleasure coursing through his veins. 

“Neither am I.” Her tongue wet her bottom lip before retreating. 

The sight of that simple gesture increased the discomfort of his breeches ten fold. 

“I’m nobody special, I’m not a hero. I’m just a man, with very little to offer.”

“I’m a simple woman. I’m not looking for someone larger than life. I want something just like this.”

“Beth?”

“Yes?”

“May I kiss you?”

Her sweet laughter bubbled up, easing away the last of the tension in his shoulders; creating a new tension in his belly.

“You may do a great deal more than that, Alistair. In fact, I insist on it. Right after you remove those wet breeches. They are dreadfully uncomfortable to snuggle up against.”

“I am at your service, m’lady.” 


End file.
